The bird doesn't sing
Even doesn't speak,
Still I paint love
On his rude beak.

Is he mine?
No no never,
He is egoistic enough
Having maneuver.

Is he trustworthy?
He loves me?
How is that possible?
Does love flee?

Love is a courage
That encourages to ride
On a reinless horse through desert sands
Not to hide.

What should I do?
Waiting for falsehood?
It's not necessary
Deviation is rather good.